


These Drabbles Are on Crack!

by bordello_blues, resurrection_en_menthe



Series: Business As Usual [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Drabble Collection, Humor, Implied Relationships, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:19:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bordello_blues/pseuds/bordello_blues, https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrection_en_menthe/pseuds/resurrection_en_menthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and prompt fills taking place in the Business As Usual 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Drabbles Are on Crack!

**Author's Note:**

> Anything that doesn't end up as a full story will end up here. Tags to be added as they happen. Dialogue heavy because I love writing dialogue. References to lots of other fandoms because everything has crossover potential.

“Ready?” Clint asks, his excitement evident in the way he’s shifting from leg to leg.

Natasha would almost call him giddy, she rolls her eyes.

“Do we really have to do this every time?”

“Nat!” She wishes she could say the accusation in his voice is put-on, but she honestly knows better, “Don’t you remember what happened in Mombasa?”

“Come off it, Clint, that was a fluke.”

“We didn’t do it then,” he says, waving the sofa cushion in her face insistently.

“I was concussed, you had a dislocated shoulder, and our contact had given us the slip. We didn’t see Cobol coming. It. Was. Bad. Luck.” Maybe if she enunciates he’ll get it through his thick skull.

It doesn’t work. Clint clutches the cushion to his chest and aims his most potent puppy dog stare at her (number five, replete with quivering lower lip).

“Damn it, Clint! Stop that.”

“Come on, Nat, you know you want to.”

He throws the cushion at her head, and she, reflexes be damned, catches it effortlessly. May as well, Natasha thinks with a shrug. It’s a bit unwieldy, larger than the pillows they usually commandeer for their pre-mission ritual, but she makes do, and grabbing the cushion by two of its corners slams it into Barton’s side.

“Yes!” He crows victoriously and ducks around the loveseat, coming up on the other side with his own weapon in hand. It’s from the back of the sofa, not the seat, so it’s smaller than hers, an advantage counteracted by his superior reach. But Natasha has the edge in hand-to-hand combat: she is quicker and more agile. While Clint outweighs her, and knows her style well enough to hold his own, he is woefully unprepared for the flying leap she takes over the couch and the cushion descending at his head. He barely manages to block in time, but comes back around with an underhanded swing aimed for Nat’s hip. She ducks, and in dropping to the floor knocks his legs out from under him with a graceful twist.

“Good one,” he gasps as she settles on his chest, crushes the breath from his lungs and menacingly raises her pillow.

“I know,” Natasha gloats and starts to mercilessly beat at the cushion Clint has raised up as a shield.

“Okay, okay,” he finally manages between laughs, “I give, you win. Game over. You are a paradigm of beauty, grace and skill; I cower before you. Ow!” Cue muffled curses as Nat hits him in the face. “Come on!” Again. “Nat!” And again. “Please stop!”

She does, after a few more thorough whacks. Both of them are flushed and giggling.

“I have to admit,” she says, “It is fun.”

___________________

“They,” Tony says, eyes bugged out as he stares at the surveillance footage of the living room, “Are so _bizarre_.”

The last thing he expects is the pillow that hits him in the face. His indignant squawk is silenced by a mouthful of feathers. 

“It looked like fun.” Loki shrugs – unapologetic.

“Oh, you are so on.”


End file.
